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This is an Ace. In a suit. A dress-suit, even.

The image professionalism is somewhat shattered thanks to the complete lack of shoes and the massive runs in both stockings and the fact her hair can aptly be described as 'windblown', but she doesn't much seem to care. She has a Brown Cow from Hell to drink, and a nice comfy couch in front of the fire to laze about on, and has been on a nice long run after scaring the living daylights out of an utter bastard.

Life is good.

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- now, I'm not an expert on twentieth-century fashions, *Meg says, surveying Ace with a shocked air,* but have you gone all respectable on us, Ace?

Ace waves her tag (yes, she kept the tag, she had left in too much of a hurry for the poor boy at the reception desk to take it back) at Meg with a gleeful air.
"I've been busting the balls of some very nasty bastards. Alright, one nasty bastard, an' I scared a receptionist. It was brilliant."

*Generously:* In that case, you're forgiven the respectable suit.

*She flops down on the couch next to Ace (gracefully!) and tilts her head.*

So who was the nasty salaud whose balls were busted?

Ace blinks at Meg, confused.
"I didn't see any nasty salads, Meg. Just men." She corrects, helpfully. It wasn't a rogue salad bar, after all.

Salaud - bastard, in French, *Meg informs her.*

Remember it. You never know when it might come in handy, oui? No lack of Frenchmen who need insulting.

"Yeah, but there's a long British tradition of insultin' the French in the King's English." Ace points out, with a grin. "Right, so, bastard. He's a bigwig in the English military who thought it t'be a wonderful idea t'experiment on honest British soldiers. I disabused him of that idea."

Forcibly.

- oh, is this something to do with Wells?

*Meg sits up a little straighter.*

I mean, I'm sure there are lots of other honest British soldiers who've been experimented on, *she adds, rather ruefully.* It's just that he's the one I've met.

"Yeah, this is Wells. We went and blackmailed the hell out of his former superiors. They should be leavin' him alone from here-on out." Ace grins, satisfaction blatant in her voice.

Oooh, blackmail.

*Meg gives an approving nod.*

Sneaky and effective - but are they going to stop all the experiments, too? I mean, does the blackmail extend that far?

"Yeeeup. An' if we hear anything new, I get t'go down an' put the fear of... well, me into their black little hearts." Like she hasn't already. However, sometimes these things need repeated doses.

*Meg beams.* Fantastique! Andrew's going to be thrilled, if he hasn't heard already.

And, you know, I hear that high heels can be used as a very effective weapon -

*A pause to peer at Ace's feet, before Meg starts to giggle.*

- or did you already do that one?

"Nah, the whole 'I am a Powerful Person' walk isn't nearly so impressive when y'trippin' over y'shoes." Ace explains, also admitting that she can't walk in heels if her life depended on it. "Generally I can be scary by myself without additions."

Yeah. Gold eyes. That's going to be pretty near the surface for a few days.

*Meg squints, a little startled.

She's never been privileged to witness the Cheetah phenomenon.*

- could your eyes do that before?

"Um." And just like that, it's gone. Ace sits up straighter, suddenly shy. "Um. Yeah. I'm guessin' you've never seen. That."

Hells. She hates this part so much.

Non, I haven't -

*Meg glances at her; puzzled, and a little worried by her sudden discomfort.

Encouragingly:* It's a pretty color, though.

"Yeah, it is." Ace can't disagree there. She'd even admired the color when it wasn't her own.
"Y'see, Meg... I'm not entirely human. Not anymore, in the strictest sense." Or many other senses, really.

Well, that's not unusual around here, *Meg says, with a quick grin - head tilted a little, waiting for the rest.*

"S'a... infection? I guess that's the right word. Anyway, there's a part of me that's rather feline and rather carnivorous an' entirely not human at all, except for the part where it started out as a part of me, an' still is."

She pauses, then sighs.

"Am I makin' any sort of sense?"

*Meg hesitates.*

Well - right now I'm thinking werewolf, *she offers.*

Except, tu sais, catlike, instead of wolflike. Is that right?

"Mostly. Except... Y'know how Wells, an' the other werewolves, they change all the way, an' then can change back? I can't do that. If I change, become a Cheetah an' nothin' else, that's it. I wouldn't be Ace anymore. So I have t'balance, every day. Most times I get it right, an' when I don't, I take a little time out t'work things through a bit until everything's right again. It works, on the most part." She explains, hoping she's not muddling it up too much.

That - makes sense, I think, *Meg says, thoughtfully.*

I mean - well, it's sort of like us - the dead, I mean, when we go out. At least how it is for me, when I start fading away; it's less and less of you and if you let yourself go, you're gone.

Except for you, it's not going to nothingness, it's turning into the Cheetah - like that?

"Yeah, that's pretty close t'it exactly. It's... not a bad feeling. It's rather attractive, actually. Everything is a lot simpler. The urge to run, run past the horizon, smell the blood on the wind and feel the grass under your feet and run f'ever." There's a slightly dreamy golden look in her eyes until she gives herself a good shake.
"Anyway. I'd hardly be the first human t'go over, an' prolly not the last. M'just one of the few that can balance on the edge."

*Meg nods, listening.

She's a little glad she doesn't remember what it was like to be a butterfly so well anymore.*

So how'd you get - infected? Is it new, or -?

"No, decades old, I'm afraid. Got it when I was still travellin' with the Doctor, long b'fore I ever came here. It was just... less awake, then, an' when I started datin' Tim... I just wanted t'be normal, for a bit. Didn't want t'scare people. Thought I'd lose control. Anyway, I asked Tim t'use one of his spells t'lock that side of me away, f'good. An' he did. That spell was only broken when the Other came in here an' mucked with it, an' Raven had t'do away with the thing t'keep it from killin' me. I know now it was a bloody stupid thing t'do, but it seemed like such a good idea then." Ace explains, blushing a bit in embarassment.

Oh - je comprends, believe me, *Meg assures her, with a quick rueful smile.*

Remind me to tell you about the time Del turned me into a butterfly some time if I haven't -

I'm just surprised I didn't know about it, but I guess it never came up.

"The only time I've really been public about it is when the Other was here - I didn't have a whole lot of control, an' I had Cuthbert lock me up for m'own good, nevermind everyone else's. After that... Some people don't react so well, knowin' I'm a predator. It's not the most pleasant feelin' in the world, even if they're right t'be afraid." Ace explains, soberly. "The only reason I slipped t'night is that bastard back there got a good dose of Cheetahness thrown at him, an' I'm still a bit out of whack."

People around here don't react so well?

*Meg shakes her head, a few tendrils of hair falling over her shoulder.*

Dieu - I'm a ghost, Anthy pulls swords out of her chest, Yrael's sort of a god-type-thing - if you stick to the just-plain-humans around here, you can't talk to about two-thirds of the bar.

And even then, sometimes the people are a lot more dangerous and nasty than the werewolves or ghosts or whatever.

Ace shrugs.
"It's the unexpected, I think. Bit of that same reaction that makes horror movies 'bout werewolves an' such so popular - we have seen the enemy and they are us." See, isn't she cute when she tries to be all philosophical about it?

And I'm much more terrified of you now that I know you can, I don't know, turn into a Cheetah as well as blowing me up with twenty pounds of bombs, bien sur, *Meg says, with a snort.*

Still no more the enemy than you ever were - which is of course not at all, as far as I'm concerned, but that's just me.

"Ta, Meg." Ace grins.

There's a bit of a pause.

"... Twenty pounds? Bit excessive, doncha think? I mean, if I was just blowin' you up, I shouldn't need more nitro than you weigh."

It depends, *Meg says, seriously.*

I mean, if you wanted to actually get rid of all the tulle, or you didn't mind it scattering around.

"Ooooh, I shouldn't worry 'bout that, just pour a little lighter fluid on top an' make sure it torches." Ace decides, eyeing the ever-present tutu.

*Meg looks suddenly mournful.*

That would be the third tutu of mine destroyed by fire, *she says, peering down at the pink froth.*

I need to figure out more original ways to kill my clothing.

"... Defabricator?"

Run Meg.

Run fast.

*. . . Meg, alas, doesn't know enough to run.*

De-fabricator? *she repeats, innocently puzzled.

This is the sort of tragic curiosity that gets her stuck with a wedgie and a Senor Squeakins.*

"Yes. You have fabric on, you get shot with the defabricator, and you no longer have fabric on. Poof!"

Ace, sadly, loves that show. It's something to watch late at (relative) night during a long TARDIS flight.

*Meg glances at Ace, a little suspiciously.*

- that's something they use in porn, oui?

Ace laughs, her mind immediately going to bad places.

She blames... someone else. Surely.

"Hello my dear, how lovely you look... Poof! And even better without the dress..." She cackles, deepening her voice in an attempt at male sultryness.

*Meg is giggling by this point.*

I hope they ask people to get a license before they sell that to just anyone - I mean, talk about a dangerous weapon in the wrong hands -

*She pauses.

Meg has had a Thought.

Eyes wide:* Do you think we could get one?

Ace should say no, flat out.

Ace knows she should say no, flat out.

"Possibly."

Oh dear fluffy gods.

*Meg smiles.

Demurely.*

I'm not saying that we would use it.

Except maybe when people really deserved it.

It's just. Tu sais. Leverage!

Give respect to the tutu or those pants come right off, mister!

Erm.

"Leverage is good. 'Specially when you're short." Ace agrees, cheerily.

Exactement!

*Meg beams.*

And technically, since we won't be the ones naked, and we won't be doing any violence, it doesn't break any rules, right?

"I dunno... can y'get run in for aidin' an' abettin'?" Ace asks, frowning.

Still.

Get pushed while in line with a drink? Goodbye, toupee!

Aiding and abetting nakedness, you mean?

*Meg takes a moment to consider this.*

Well - there's nothing in the rules about it, is there?

And I've definitely had people steal my clothes in the bar before with no consequences. So we should be safe.

*Of course, it would probably help not to de-fabricate any members of Security.*

Ace thinks about this for a moment.
"Don't think there's anyone on Security I particularly care t'see defabricated, so no temptation there."

- well, Andrew's in charge of the cells now, *Meg says, with a sudden giggle,* but then, I don't think I need help on that one.

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